


The Heart That You Call Home

by niltia



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 08:32:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18070070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niltia/pseuds/niltia
Summary: When the author of Tilly’s favorite books finally publishes another novel after a two year hiatus, Tilly persuades Michael to read the series with her.





	The Heart That You Call Home

**Author's Note:**

> This was mostly written prior to s2e08 “If Memory Serves,” and I actually still haven’t seen that episode, so this is not canon compliant. 
> 
> Title from the song “The Engine Driver” by The Decemberists.

Michael’s duties on the ship had changed significantly since her reinstatement, but on days when she had unstructured time on her shift, she still went down to engineering to help out with whatever projects they were working on. This was a science vessel, after all, so there was always something to be done that could use an extra pair of hands. 

Usually the people who were assigned as staff in this particular lab weren’t terribly talkative, which Michael honestly preferred. Today, however, there was an atypical level of chatter going on. People were still working, of course, but there were occasional bursts of low-voiced discussion of something about which they seemed very excited. This discussion always stopped abruptly when other senior staff were in the room. Michael wasn’t sure if she should be glad they didn’t consider her a threat or concerned that they didn’t seem to group her in with other people with authority. 

Tilly, in particular, was being unusually cagey. She was the most frequent person involved in these hushed discussions, but she also seemed the most paranoid about being caught talking. Unfortunately for her, she wasn’t the best at either realizing when senior staff were near or consistently keeping her voice down. On the few occasions Commander Stamets managed to pass close to her before she realized he was near and curtailed herself, he looked like he was struggling to deliberately ignore her conversations, looking the other way or very obviously acting busy with something on his PADD. 

During a period when Stamets was out of the room for an extended length of time (intentionally, Michael suspected), Tilly got particularly rambunctious, involving someone in her conversation who had previously not participated but who had come over to investigate what all the fuss was about. “You haven’t?!” Michael heard Tilly say. “Oh man! I’ll send them to you, they’re great.” She swiped at something on her PADD.

A notification popped up on Michael’s workstation indicating that Tilly was requesting to transfer a file to her personal drive. She hesitated just a moment before accepting. It was clear to her that Tilly had mistakenly sent whatever it was to Michael instead of her intended recipient, but Michael was a little curious as to what everyone was so interested in. 

Before Tilly had a chance to realize her error, however, Stamets came back from whatever errand had taken him out of the room for the past eighteen minutes. In her peripheral vision, Michael saw Tilly almost fumble her PADD in her effort to get back to looking busy at her workstation. 

Michael waited until Tilly’s assigned task took her away from her station, and as Tilly passed by her to get whatever it was she needed, Michael reached out and gently touched her arm to get her attention. 

“What’s this?” Michael asked, gesturing to the notification she had deliberately left up on her screen that a file had successfully been transferred from the drive of _Tilly, Sylvia_ to her own personal drive. 

“Oh no, I didn’t mean to send you that,” Tilly said, wincing.

“So what is it?”

Tilly blushed very deeply and glanced sideways to where Stamets was fiddling with a control panel in the wall on the other side of the room. “Uh, I’ll tell you later,” Tilly whispered. 

_Ah_ , Michael thought, _it’s probably something of a prurient nature_ , and promptly decided to forget about it. 

-

Tilly, however, did not forget about it. As soon as her tray hit the lunch table, she was off on an explanation, and it took Michael a moment to catch up and understand what it was she was even talking about.

“So they’re like these novels that I used to read all the time as a teenager, they’re really good, I just didn’t want Commander Stamets to overhear because they’re kind of… fluffy unscientific fun? And I don’t want him to judge me? But he probably hasn’t even heard of them, I honestly can’t picture him reading for fun… but they are pretty well-known, so I don’t know.”

“Why would he judge you?” Michael asked, although even as she was asking she did have the somewhat uncharitable thought that Stamets might be a little judgmental of reading anything that wasn’t related to mycology or at least science. She was sure he had other interests, most humans did, but she hadn’t actually seen any _evidence_ of that. “What are they about?”

“They’re the adventures of a very thinly veiled sort of Starfleet vessel without actually being Starfleet, because, you know, we get kind of litigious about that or whatever. They just grabbed my attention as a teenager because I was still kind of figuring myself out and they were about, like, the fun and excitement of being on a spaceship and exploring and fixing things and — well, that just really appealed to me, especially after, you know, that stuff I told you about, with my mom and the running away and getting to actually _be_ on a ship.”

“Also,” Tilly continued, “it doesn’t show up frequently, only in one of the later books really, but the mycology in them is _so bad_ that it’s got to be, like, intentionally bad, like it would be hard to get things this completely wrong without knowing what was right in the first place, you know? Which I always thought was hilarious. A lot of the other science is close enough to accurate even if it’s being wildly misused, so it always made me wonder if the author was a mycologist.”

Michael knew Tilly was talkative when she was excited about something, of course, but this was a lot even for her. “I see,” Michael said. 

Tilly looked away and started picking at her food. “I’m sorry, I’ve gone on and on about them and I was too enthusiastic and now I’ve probably put you off reading them if you were ever even going to be interested in the first place.”

“No! You haven’t!” Michael reassured her, even though she wasn’t entirely wrong. Michael loved adventure stories, but the idea of reading a fictionalized account of her own job didn’t appeal to her. However, she was loathe to contribute in any way to Tilly feeling embarrassed about something she was passionate about. She was going to have to at least try to read the first one now, she supposed. “So they’re all in that file you sent me?”

Tilly perked up immediately, which made Michael feel validated in her decision to take an interest in the books. “Yes! Although they’re not in any particular order in the file. You’re going to want to start with _Thirty-Eight Minutes_ , that’s the first one, although it’s a bit of a rough start. The front matter in that book has a list of the rest of the books in order.”

As Tilly was telling Michael this, Keyla sat down at their table with her tray, Joann following shortly. “Oh! Are you talking about the new _Collapsing Space_ book that just came out?” Keyla asked. 

“Yes! You’ve read them?” Tilly asked excitedly, turning her whole body to face Keyla and slapping her palms on the table, leaning forward. Michael laughed. 

“Have I read them?” Keyla asked, hand to her chest, faux scandalized. “Joann, have I _read_ them?” 

“You have,” Joann said. “You’ve read them too many times.” 

Tilly looked shocked, as though such a thing wasn’t possible.

Keyla, too, looked shocked. “Excuse me, are you saying you don’t like them? You’ve read them too!” 

“I didn’t say that,” Joann said, calm even in the face of so much nonverbal judgment. “I just don’t understand why you re-read things so much. There are so many other things to read. You have thousands of years worth of the literature of hundreds of species and yet you keep re-reading the same dozen Earth authors.”

“So the author is from Earth?” Michael asked, trying to forestall this conversation devolving into a debate.

“Presumably, based on the content of the books,” Joann replied even as Tilly was opening her mouth to respond, which surprised Michael. Joann must actually be invested in these books, too, to cut Tilly off at the pass.

“Oh?”

“The main character is a human from Earth and statistically about 80% of books with a human protagonist are written by a human author. Also, this author appears to have functional knowledge of Starfleet even if they’ve filed the serial numbers off, so to speak, and about half of Starfleet personnel are currently human. Furthermore, the author seems familiar with several Earth —”

“Please, Joann, we can’t keep doing this,” Keyla interrupted. “Your conspiracy theories about the author are totally —”

“Conspiracy theories!” Joann said, indignant. “You’re just upset that I turned out to be right about —-”

Tilly turned back to Michael, leaving Joann and Keyla to what sounded like an old argument. “A lot of people on the net bulletin boards for these books thought that the author had probably died in the war. They used to publish pretty frequently, but it’s been almost two years since the last one. I don’t really care who they are, I’m just glad they’re writing again.”

Michael thought this probably indicated that Joann’s ‘conspiracy theory’ was on the right track, but she kept it to herself, since Tilly hadn’t expressed any thoughts as to the identity of this mystery author. 

“How far are you guys into the new one?” Tilly asked during a brief pause in Keyla and Joann’s argument.

“Not very,” Keyla said, “so no spoilers.”

Joann leaned back in her chair, looking a little smug. “I finished it.”

“Already?!”

“I read a lot,” Joann said by way of explanation. Keyla side-eyed her at this, clearly still smarting over Joann’s earlier comment about her reading tastes.

“I’m only a couple chapters in, I’ve had a busy day,” Tilly said. Now that was curious. When had Tilly even had time? She hadn’t mentioned anything in their quarters this morning, so Michael guessed she must have found out about the book’s release during the earlier part of her shift. “I don’t think I’m into the main plot yet, but so far it’s, uh....”

“It’s a lot darker,” Joann said.

“Ohhhhhhh yeah,” Tilly said. 

“No spoilers! You guys!” Keyla said, pointing her fork aggressively at each of them in turn. “If you spoil me I will _ruin you_.”

“Jeez!” Tilly said, holding up her hands. “Alright!”

“Read faster,” Joann said. 

They were all _very_ invested in these books, it seemed. Michael liked reading but hadn’t exactly had much time for it lately. The last time she’d read a lot, well, she’d been in prison. She decided she was going to read all of these books so she could join in the discussion. She enjoyed finding ways to participate in Tilly’s enthusiasm, and additionally, while her relationship with Keyla had warmed since their initial reintroduction to each other, finding more ways to positively interact with her (and with Joann, who seemed to be her best friend) couldn’t hurt. 

-

Unusually, Michael had another unscheduled day the next day and ended up helping out in engineering again. This was fortunate for her, since she had stayed up most of the previous night reading and didn’t feel particularly sharp as a result. It was better that she help out with routine maintenance tasks she could do in her sleep. 

Michael sat on the floor doing the monthly maintenance routines for the various handheld devices in the lab and listened to the usual commotion of the lab going on around her. Nilsson was was talking to Chiefowitz about a video date she’d had with her partner back home the night before. Tilly was periodically talking with multiple people about the book series she’d inspired Michael to read, stopping whenever Stamets was nearby. Stamets was talking to nobody but he was clanking around uncharacteristically loudly, putting things down with more force than usual and seeming to deliberately walk over the noisiest floor panels on any path he took through the bay. Interesting. 

Really, Stamets looked _suspiciously_ intent on avoiding Tilly’s conversations. Despite Tilly’s attempts at subtlety, discretion was not naturally in her wheelhouse, and Michael could still hear her conversations pretty clearly from halfway across the room even though she was obviously attempting to be a bit quieter than usual. Michael decided to start paying a little more attention to Stamets’ behavior.

The next task on her list was calibration of the spectrophotometers the microbiology department used for optical density measurements, which were housed in another lab. However, they were portable, and it was a task that everyone else hated doing but which Michael didn’t mind, so she figured that nobody would notice or care if she brought them back here and worked on it. 

During the fifteen minutes it took her to complete the calibrations, Michael twice observed Stamets walk toward where Tilly was conversing with a fellow crewmate, get close enough that their conversation probably became audible, and very obviously swerve to go do some other task as though he hadn’t intended to go over there at all. Very interesting.

Unfortunately Michael’s next task, calibration of the microbiology department’s multichannel micropipettes, couldn’t really be performed outside the lab. She packed up what she was working on and moved on to that department. 

Several hours later, after tasks which took her all over the ship, she made her way back to engineering test bay alpha. Tilly’s shift was scheduled to end at the same time as her own today, so she was hoping to grab her for dinner. 

Michael gently touched Tilly’s elbow, interrupting her conversation with Nilsson. “Hey, it’s end of shift. Are you ready for dinner?”

“Oh man, yes, I’m starving. And we can talk about the books! How far did you get?”

“Oh, you’re reading them too?” Nilsson asked. 

“Yes, Tilly was telling me about them yesterday,” Michael said, noting that Dr. Culber had just come into the lab from the main hallway. He must be here for Stamets.

Stamets looked up to see who had entered, looked back down at his PADD, and then did an alarmed double-take. 

“I’m so excited for the new one!” Nilsson said. “I’m planning on reading it tonight—”

“Why are you all so talkative today? Everybody back on task! Or leave, if your shift is over!” Stamets said loudly, striding toward Dr. Culber.

Tilly flushed bright red, and Nilsson quickly turned away and walked back to her station. 

Michael had formed some suspicions based on the content of the books, but she had thought they were outlandish. The simplest explanation was coincidence. Many people in Starfleet led relatively similar lives to one another, both by way of the fact that many of them were humans raised on Earth (because in this conclusion about the author, Michael was sure Joann was correct) and because the nature of the organization itself meant that there was a set path people generally followed to various careers. 

However, while the simplest explanation for anything was usually the correct one, Michael was beginning to feel that the simplest explanation in this case might _not_ be coincidence. 

-

Michael did not stay up most of the night reading, this time, as she had her regular duties the next day, but she did still make significant progress. By the time she met Tilly for lunch the next day, she had made it to the most-recently-published book. 

Tilly was already in the mess, sitting with Joann and Keyla and also Bryce today. They were, as Michael had anticipated, still discussing the books. 

“Still on the same subject, I see,” Michael said with a smile as she sat down. 

“I finished this morning!” Keyla said. “How far are you? I don’t want to spoil you.”

“I’m about two-thirds of the way through the most recent one,” Michael told her. She wasn’t terribly concerned with ‘spoilers,’ but she appreciated Keyla’s concern.

“You’re already caught up?! How do you read so fast?” Tilly asked.

“Vulcan memory techniques,” Michael tried to joke, but all of them just nodded as though that made sense at face value. 

“I’m about that far, too,” Bryce said. “It’s been slow going for me, honestly. This particular book is really bumming me out. I mean, it’s _good_ , but....”

“I hear you,” Joann said. 

Michael nodded. While the previous books had dealt with some serious topics, tonally this one was a bit of a departure. 

“I think you’re right, Joann, about them being Starfleet,” Bryce said. Michael privately agreed. This particular book focused on one of the ensemble characters from previous books who had gone through a traumatic experience. The earlier books had largely been simple escapism, but this book seemed like perhaps it was a form of catharsis for the author. 

“Maybe somebody they cared about died during the war,” Keyla said.

“Maybe a lot of people, depending on where they were stationed,” Joann said. 

They were all silent for a moment, likely thinking about their own losses.

“I don’t really like speculating about the author the way you guys do,” Tilly said, “but the, like, touch stuff is making me feel pretty bad for them.”

“I know, right?” Keyla said. “Like, who hurt you?”

Joann gave her a significant look. 

“Uh, life, probably,” Bryce said. Michael kept her mouth shut. 

Across the room, Michael saw Dr. Culber sitting alone at a table, facing away from their little group. Stamets approached him, setting a tray down in front of him. Culber startled. Stamets almost touched his shoulder, but hesitated and withdrew at the last moment. He rounded the table and sat down across from him instead. 

“Would anyone mind if we changed the subject?” Michael asked. “I’m enjoying the book, but I would prefer to talk about something a little lighter today.”

“Rhys got his hand stuck in a replicator earlier,” Bryce said.

“ _How?_ ”

-

After lunch, Michael took a brief detour from her duties for the day.

She entered the engineering bay from the back route through the biology labs, waited until Tilly had resumed whatever conversation she was having with Nilsson in order to ensure that Stamets wouldn’t be near, and then cornered him on the other side of the room. 

“You wrote these, didn’t you,” she said, keeping her voice low.

“No! I mean, what? What is it that you think that I wrote?” Stamets asked. She didn’t envy him his very expressive face. He had managed to keep his voice even, but his eyebrows gave away his panic. 

“These books that Tilly and the rest can’t stop talking about this week,” Michael said.

“Oh, those books? Nope! Not me, no way, you know me, I’m not artistic at all,” Stamets said. 

“Hm,” Michael said, staring him down. She felt a little bad about how entertaining she found it to watch him sweat. “I believe you,” Michael said, finally. 

Stamets visibly slumped with relief. “Oh good,” he said. “I mean. Uh.”

Michael really did believe him. She had already known he wasn’t lying, but she also felt like that wasn’t the full story. She now felt confident in her conclusion about who the author was, but it was their secret to keep and they must be keeping it for a reason. 

“Hey, can you maybe not tell Hugh you asked me that?” Stamets said. “Or that you’ve read those books? No reason.” 

“Your secret is safe with me,” Michael said, patting him on the shoulder. His expression went from relieved to alarmed. She turned and made her escape before he could say anything else. 

Michael managed to make it out of the room before she laughed. She didn’t want him to worry unduly, but he _had_ shouted her most deeply-held secret at her in a crowded room during their little time loop adventure all those months ago, so this was her payback. His secret really was safe with her. 

-

“So uh, how’s the project the therapist assigned you going?” Paul asked Hugh that evening, as though he didn’t already know.

“Good, sent something off a couple weeks ago,” Hugh said without looking up from his place on the couch. He was sitting with his feet up on the couch, PADD propped against his knees, as though he was trying to take up as little space as possible. 

“So you finally sent it off to the editor, huh? Wow, that’s fast!” Paul said, aiming for an encouraging tone. 

“I’ve got a lot of time,” Hugh said, grimacing. 

Paul winced. He hadn’t meant anything judgmental, but it was hard to find the right words lately. “You know nobody here is going to begrudge you that,” he said.

Hugh finally looked up at that, giving him a look that said _That’s not why I’m concerned, you idiot._

Paul sat down close to him on the couch, not touching him, but near enough that Hugh could reach out if he chose. He waited. 

Hugh moved a little closer, still not to the point of actual contact, but close enough that Paul could feel the heat coming off him in the cold room where his arm and thigh were centimeters from Paul’s own. 

They sat silently like that for several minutes, during which time Hugh tapped away at his PADD and Paul stared at his hands, the wall, Hugh’s knees, the floor, not wanting to interrupt the infrequent moment of closeness. “Are you gonna let me read this one?” he asked eventually.

“Maybe this time,” Hugh said.


End file.
